Useless
by catgirl Serenity
Summary: Arthur deals with the emotional aftermath of learning Merlin's darkest secret. And as we all know, Arthur sucks with emotions. AU,3rd season time frame. NO SLASH! just friendship
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I couldn't help it, I joined the Merlin fanbase! T.T As if I don't have enough to do right now what with school and graduation and recognition coming up, I've got to read fanfictions, keep up with the latest news on the series/try to catch up on all the episodes, _and_ write my own fanfics….*sigh* first-world problems right?

Anywho about the story: it's just a one-shot right now though I think I'll expand on it a bit depending on how you all like it. Please tell me what you think (seriously, reviews are crack to a writer)

Disclaimer: I do not own the series _Merlin_ or any of the characters associated with said series.

…

Useless

That's what he had called Merlin today. Useless.

Not that this was really anything out of the ordinary: just the verbal abuse that was part of their morning exchange. A tradition that Arthur could never quite pin to a specific date or event. He supposed it had started with their first meeting when Merlin had mouthed off to him for the first time and Arthur had, in return, thrown the impudent whelp in the stocks for the first time.

Merlin, of course, disagreed with this conclusion—because heaven forbid he ever concede a point or give another the last word, this was _Merlin_ after all—claiming that Arthur was "too much of a spoilt prat with a head too far up his ass" to contribute to their witty (as Merlin claimed it was, at least on his part) banter and hence the stocks. That cheeky little comment had earned the raven-haired boy a pillow in the face and an afternoon in the company of the palace horses and their waste.

Regardless of its origin though there was no denying the bond that had formed between master and servant; a bond that had transcended society standards and birthright to allow a friendship to form—not that either would willingly admit it unless under torture or the piercing stare of one Guinevere. It was a source of much irritation for King Uther, a topic of persistent conflict between father and son, a light of hope for the people of Camelot and a blessing for the young prince—though not even torture could pull that last admittance out of him. He just prayed that Gwen would never press the matter.

That relationship, though, the one Arthur cherished so dearly, had been tried several months ago when Merlin had revealed a not-so-small secret about himself.

The bloody idiot had _magic_.

Reflecting on this, Arthur supposed it made sense, considering how many times the boy had defied the odds and persisted in surviving, well, everything. Dragons, poison and questing beast were no match for the powerful warlock who doubled as Arthur's manservant. And Arthur didn't know whether he was relieved by the fact or irritated that he had wasted precious time worrying for a clumsy manservant who could turn men into frogs.

Not that his worrying was done by any length of the imagination, if anything he found he wasted twice as much time concerned for his incompetent manservant.

Merlin had explained that the magic was not a choice but a part of him, the boy could not stop using magic any more than Arthur could stop breathing and Arthur accepted that. Merlin was not evil, he could barely squash a fly let alone rain down fire and brimstone on an innocent village. So the revelation about Merlin's magic really did not cause too many waves.

The issue of trust, however, did.

It was probably very girlish of him, but Arthur had withdrawn a bit from his servant. These last few months had seen him more reserved with what he shared with Merlin. Yes, logically speaking he knew that Merlin would never do anything to betray him and he still trusted Merlin more than any other man he knew. But, curse him, it hurt Arthur more than he liked to admit that Merlin had not returned that trust! The prince had been punched, kicked, stabbed, shot and knocked out more times than he cared to remember but none of that had hurt so much as the realization that his best friend did not trust him.

And that maybe Arthur had not earned that trust at all. Arthur worked hard to earn everything he had: he was a prince by birth right but devoted his hours to studying the law and caring for his people, he was a knight by tradition but worked harder and longer than any of his men to justify his title, he was loved by Guinevere and dedicated himself to being the man she expected and loved. But he could think of nothing he'd done to deserve Merlin's friendship or trust so he could not really fault the young man for not trusting him.

And yet somehow it still hurt.

The wound was healing, but slowly.

Part of that healing process included their traditional banter which, coincidentally, was what had spurred Arthur out here, to the training grounds, at this ungodly hour of the morning.

Useless.

Arthur had used that word only yesterday morning, when Merlin, in typical fashion, had shown up late.

"_Sorry I'm late!" Merlin exclaimed, bursting through the doors of Arthur's chamber, balancing his breakfast with one hand and carrying the Prince's laundry in another. Arthur wondered how the clumsy servant had managed all the stairs. "Gaius needed help with a remedy this morning and I—"_

-Crash!-

_Arthur groaned, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling and begging for patience, "Seriously, Merlin? You make it all the way up from the kitchens and decide to spill the food all over my floor?"_

_Merlin twisted his head up to grin at his master, "Makes you feel special, don't it?"_

"_Oh yeah." Arthur replied, dripping sarcasm, "I'm all warm and fuzzy inside for it and now, you get to scrub the floors and redo my laundry."_

_The boy looked down at the clothes he had just picked up and groaned upon seeing most of them covered in Arthur's breakfast. "You've gotta be kidding me." He moaned looking utterly pathetic with the other half of Arthur's breakfast stuck to his shirt._

"_You are absolutely useless, aren't you Merlin?"_

Useless.

Merlin had been unfazed by the jibe and had parried with skill, taking lead in their morning verbal spar that ended with a goblet smacking Arthur in the back of the head and Merlin, who was on the opposite side of the room form said goblet, looking stubbornly innocent.

The day had proceeded as usual with training, court, patrol and all the extra pomp that came with being the King's son. And yet Arthur found it difficult to focus on anything. He lost two rounds during training, ignored most of the court and almost let a particularly bold pick-pocket get away with his purse while on patrol. All he could think about that whole day was that one word.

Useless.

So Arthur decided to work out his confusion the only way he knew how: by beating the living hell out of one of the training ground's many dummies—and no, he did not mean Merlin.

Birds chirped happily in the trees beyond the castle walls, greeting Arthur as he walked across the dew soaked grass. The slowly brightening skies provided him with sufficient light so he carried no torch. The air was still and cool perhaps intended to sooth a restless soul, all it did for Arthur was build his already mountainous frustration.

His first strike startled the birds into silence with his ferocity. The second blow sent them fleeing from the previously tranquil training grounds; frightened by the brutal attacks and intense display of raw emotion. The Prince did not notice, he only had eyes for the target, nothing else mattered. He stabbed and cut, spun and feinted, he attacked fake limbs, pierced a chest with no heart and hacked at a neck that supported nothing. An inexperienced observer might call it fierce but any of his knights would have known different; fierce attacks had control and there was no control here, just pure, unchecked rage.

This toed "crazed."

Useless.

Arthur knew that the word had not hurt Merlin, the insult rolling off with the warmth of their tradition. In truth, Arthur had called his friend much worse over the years. Comparatively speaking, "useless" actually bordered complimentary. But Arthur could not get it out of his head.

Because in truth, Merlin was anything but useless. Merlin was his best friend. His confidant. And, despite their recent falling out, the man Arthur trusted with not just the safety of his kingdom but with all his private matters as well. All his worries, all this weaknesses. He hid nothing from the boy. No, Merlin was not useless, he was Arthur's friend.

And he was lucky for it, he knew that. Arthur was a prince, a crown prince at that, and friends were a luxury that his role did not afford him. How could it? The threat of betrayal and its consequences were far too high to fall victim to a false friendship. It was one of the harder lessons that a younger Prince Arthur had learned. A lesson Uther ensured his son committed to his heart. Arthur thought he'd pleased his father in at least that aspect, that is, until Merlin came around and, under Uther's command, ironic as it now seemed, became an integral part of Prince Arthur's life.

No, _Merlin_ was definitely not useless_._

And, a few months ago, Arthur had learned just now "not useless" Merlin truly way.

The sun was almost fully risen now and life buzzed within and without the palace walls. But Arthur did not stop. Sweat stung his eyes, his throat was sore for water and his arms felt the true weight of his sword, but he did not stop. Instead he grew frustrated with his body's weakness. He would not accept the natural response to exertion and pushed his body even harder than before.

Arthur did not notice the hushed whispered of fearful servants or the concerned looks his knights shot his direction when they found him still cutting away at the battered training dummy well into the morning. None of them approached or disturbed him. The knights felt concern in their gut, knowing the day's exertion would not end well for the prince but had too much respect for the young man to try and stop him; the servants were just scared.

All but one. But even he would not intervene today; the respectful knights did not allow it.

Arthur gasped as his knee buckled to the side, making him stumble for the umpteenth time. He paused for a moment, greedily swallowing air that seemed far too scarce. The world swam at the corners of his vision and he shook his head to banish the dizziness. Readjusting his grip on his sword he faced his opponent again and pursued his attack.

His sword sang through the air, and with each strike came the hushed hisses that had haunted his dreams for some time now. They were not new, he's heard these venomous hisses before, most of his life in fact. Usually though they only haunted his darkest nightmares, but right now they assaulted his ears, deafening him to the sounds of the world, and whispered poison. He rallied against the poison, happy to have an opponent, no matter how obtuse, to vent with.

_Tired already? _

Arthur answered the accusation with a roar as he sunk his sword deep into the "heart" of the dummy, killing it for the hundredth time that day.

_Pathetic, how do you expect to protect your people against a siege or stand on a field of battle?_

Arthur continued swinging, striking, killing his opponent. Some functioning part of his mind wondered when the poisonous words had taken on Merlin's voice.

_Useless._

He did not know when he passed out. He did not remember his knee buckling, did not feel his head strike the ground or the soft grass that cushioned the fall. He became aware of the conscious world moments later when he felt arms slip under his and lift him to a standing position. Cracking open an eye he found Leon supporting his right arm and Merlin under his other. Arthur struggled to get his feet back under him, partly so that the pair would not have to carry all his weight back to the palace but mostly so he would not appear weak before his people.

_Much too late for that_.

The next thing he knew, he was being laid in his own bed. Someone—Leon—was removing his armor while Merlin scampered out of the room, possibly to find Gaius. Arthur hoped not, Gaius would have more important patients to attend to than him. But a few moments later, Merlin returned alone and with a beaker of what turned out to be water—something Arthur only learned when Leon and the boy helped him sit up to drink it.

Merlin spoke as the prince was laid back down against his pillows. Leon answered but none of their words made it to Arthur's ears. He was too dizzy and tired to muster up the will care or the effort to hear anything but that one, accursed word:

_Useless_.

Merlin looked at the prince and shook his head at whatever Leon had just said. The boy pulled one of the room's many chairs next to Arthur's bed and simply sat there beside his master and friend. Arthur's eyes drooped closed at last.

No, _Merlin_ was definitely not the useless one.

...A/N

Very Arthur-centric I know. The next one will be more Merlin-centric I think. Please R&R!


	2. Worried

A/N: Merlin's compliment chapter to Arthur's 'Useless.' There is a story here I promise, there's just not one *here* yet…. shut up I'm working on it. For now, enjoy Merlin!

…

Worried

Merlin did not like to sit still for any reason—a fact to which any individual who had attended court sessions could well attest. The boy could simply not hold still for any measurable period of time which made the hours he had to spend studying magic or standing in court truly torturous. He just had too much energy. Movement excited him, even if it was movement solely devoted to menial tasks like cleaning the floor of Arthur's chamber. At least you were _going_ somewhere when you were moving; sitting around never accomplished anything useful.

Hence the pacing. Merlin crossed the room for the hundredth time, no more aware of his actions than Arthur was aware of the world.

That of course was the problem: Arthur.

Arthur was _always_ the problem. Whether the young prince was riding off to fight dragons—or whatever the deadly magical beast of the week was—leading Camelot's Knights against a much greater army, or running off on stupid, chivalrous quests of courage, it always ended with trouble for the young warlock.

"You really are a royal pain in the arse, I hope you know that." Merlin muttered, "But of course you know that! You just don't care how much trouble it causes me. I swear I'm going have gray hairs before my time."

The Prince did not reply. He couldn't, not now, which, again, was part of the problem that was Arthur.

Merlin really did not understand the Prince sometimes, though he guessed that's what it meant to be "opposite sides of the same coin": one face could not see the other any easier than one person could see both sides completely at the same time. He stopped and groaned when he realized he had finally committed to Kilgharrah's favorite quote. He was _never_ telling the dragon that.

Damn, he was a Dragonlord, the ancient beast probably already knew and was currently laughing his tail off elsewhere. Damn soul connections with ancient magical flying lizards.

A groan snapped Merlin out of his turbulent thoughts. The warlock froze and looked at Arthur, hoping, praying, that the young prince would wake up. True, Arthur had gone off on one of these self-destructive training sessions before but they had never lasted as long as this one nor had quite such dramatic after effects. Despite Merlin's best efforts to convince himself otherwise, he was worried out of his mind.

Arthur, though, seemed determined to continue worrying Merlin to an early grave and did not wake up. The Prince shifted in his sleep, sheets pushed aside as he sought a cooler side of the bed.

Merlin tried to muster the energy to be mad at the Prince only to fail miserably. He was worried about Arthur; Merlin had been long before this little "I'm going to train till the point of breaking and cause _massive_ amounts of problems just for you, Merlin" incident. The Prince had been far more withdrawn than usual from Merlin. Not that it was ever really easy to get Arthur to open up about anything, but as of late Arthur did not open up at all. Merlin could always tell when something was bothering his master, after a little more than two years of companionship how could he not know all of Arthur's tells? They spent every day together in some capacity or another and Merlin, if nothing else, was very good at watching. But for all his watching and prodding and teasing, Merlin could not get Arthur to tell him what was wrong.

Merlin ran a hand through his hair, "It's not like I can read minds, you know?" he snapped at the Prince, "I might have…_that_ but I can't just know what's wrong! I doubt I'd be able to understand your crazy thoughts even if I could read them. You barely make any sense when you talk about them."

Yes, Merlin was just rambling at this point, but the constant stream of talking made him feel better and gave him a break from the repetitive pacing. His babbling, though, was cut short when the doors to Arthur's room flew open and King Uther stormed in.

Merlin, in a mix of genuine and false fear, backed off into a corner of the room. Close enough to still be in attendance to Arthur but far enough to stay out of Uther's line of sight. The King, for his part, completely ignored the servant—nothing new there—and went to his son's side. Uther hovered uncertainly over his only child, his hand resting on Arthur's brow. Merlin looked away from the father and son to see Gaius enter the room. The physician moved with far more control and self awareness than the King—irony that was not lost on Merlin though he had the sense to keep his mirth private—and joined Uther by Arthur's side.

"I promise you, Sire, he is alright. I checked him earlier and while he is dehydrated this is nothing serious. He'll sleep through the rest of the day but I imagine he'll be back on his feet tomorrow." Gaius informed the King. Merlin, of course, had already heard all this and while the words were not meant for him they did provide added comfort. Sometimes repetition did wonders for the nerves.

Uther nodded but did not look particularly relieved by the announcement. Instead he looked to be caught between relief and anger, "Stupid boy." He muttered, running a hand through Arthur's damp hair, "I'd hoped he would outgrow this habit one day. It is hardly appropriate or wise for a Prince to abandon his duties like this."

Merlin squashed the bubble of anger rising in his chest.

Gaius just nodded, "I am sure that was not the Prince's intentions, Sire. You must note that he chose a day that he was not needed in court or on patrol to render himself unavailable."

"Forethought does not excuse childish behavior." Uther replied, rounding on Gaius, "Please continue to care of him and alert me when he awakes."

"As you wish, Sire." Gaius replied with a bow as Uther and his guard—Merlin had not even noticed them enter the room—turned and left. Merlin kept his mouth clamped shut until the doors slammed behind the king.

"What kind of man is Uther?" the boy demanded, gesturing angrily after the king, "His son is clearly upset by something but all he cares about is how 'appropriate' his behavior is?"

"Merlin, please, keep your voice down." Gaius ordered as he check Arthur's heart rate.

"He obviously doesn't care for Arthur!" Merlin continued, ignoring Gaius, "He just cares what Arthur can do for him! I swear, I've never seen a man so self-centered and callous and bull headed as him! Arthur has done nothing but serve his father and cater to his whims and what does that get him?"

"_Merlin_!" Gaius snapped and Merlin shut up under the glare the older man was sending him, "I don't disagree with you Merlin but you must show some prudence! Words like that will get you killed faster than your magic ever will."

Merlin stared at the ground, chastised but not apologetic, "He'll really be okay, right Gaius?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Gaius looked up at the boy and studied him for a moment, "You've heard me twice now, Merlin, but I will say it again: Arthur just needs rest. He'll wake up tomorrow, sore and dehydrated, no doubt, but in perfect health otherwise."

Merlin nodded and sank into the chair next to Arthur's bed, suddenly finding he did not have the energy to resume his pacing. He stared down at Arthur's peaceful features, his eyes tracing the contours of the young man's face and watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. A hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up to see Gaius's worried face hovering over him, "Merlin, are you alright? Something is troubling you."

The young warlock nodded, deciding there were far too many secrets going around as it was to keep his concerns from Gaius, "Arthur won't talk to me anymore. I know something is bothering him but I can't get him to tell me. I've done everything except send Guinevere after him, though I'm about ready to."

Gaius chuckled at the odd threat, "That would certainly qualify as a low blow." When Merlin did not laugh or even attempt a smile, Gaius sighed and squeezed the younger man's shoulder, "Give him time, Merlin, he trusts you more than anyone. If something really is bothering him—and you must keep in mind that you might be being a little sensitive—" he ignored Merlin's "hey!" of protest, "he'll come and talk to you, Merlin. He always does."

"I suppose you're right." Merlin sighed.

Gaius smiled, "Of course I am." He squeezed Merlin's shoulder again, "And how about we hold off on setting Guinevere after him until then, hmm?"

"Sending me after whom?"

Merlin and Gaius looked up to see the girl in question standing in the doorway. Merlin did not know how Gwen managed to come and go with such silence, it was almost creepy. But then that was probably part of the reason she and Arthur had managed to keep their relationship such a secret. Both physician and warlock gaped at the serving girl, uncertain as to what to say next.

Gwen's large brown eyes stared at both men, waiting for an answer.

"Uh…well, you see…" Merlin stuttered, his mind refusing to come up with a viable excuse.

The girl's lips twitched up in an almost wicked smile, "When you think of a good excuse, let me know. Until then I suggest you keep your voices down or close the door."

Merlin and Gaius both had the grace to look sheepish.

Gwen smiled as she set down a laundry basket full of clothes, "I went ahead and finished Arthur's laundry for you, Merlin."

Merlin smacked his forehead, "Oh! I completely forgot about that! Sorry, Gwen."

"It's nothing to worry about." She assured him, pausing by Arthur. Her hand drifted out to touch his brow, pushing his bangs to the side with a gentleness that Uther would never manage. She snapped back to her senses a moment later and blushed as though having been caught doing something wrong, "I-I'll see you both later then." She dashed out of the room before either Gaius or Merlin could insist otherwise.

After a moment, Gaius straightened up and also headed for the door, "I have other patients to attend to. Please let me know as soon as the Prince awakes."

"Of course." Merlin hastily agreed.

The door shut behind Gaius and once again Merlin was left alone with Arthur.

And despite Gaius' infinite wisdom and assurance that the Prince would wake up, Merlin could not help but worry.

….A/N

Kind of a lame ending/chapter, I mostly used it for character introduction and to get some practice writing Merlin (who is surprisingly easy to write, btw). Hope you all enjoyed! Please review!


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